Perros sarnosos sí molan
Continúo preguntándome por qué me hacen tanta gracia Bloodhound Gang, y sobre todo, por qué sólo parecen hacérmela a mí. Los descubrí, cómo no, gracias a la famosa “The Bad Touch” (que, se pongan, como se pongan, tiene uno de los mejores estribillos de los noventa “You and me, baby, are nothing but mammals, so let’s do it like they do in the Discovery Channel”, aparte de frases tan gloriosas como “Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about”), y conseguí el fantabuloso “Hooray for Boobies” cuando me lo dejó un amigo. ¿Se acuerdan? Antes del Soulseek.
La intención de Bloodhound Gang de hacer “la música más irritantemente necia de la historia” me resulta fascinante, porque sin duda hay quienes les han ganado en idiotez, pero no por motu propio, sino por pura y simple incapacidad para hacerlo mejor. Lo que hace grandes a Bloodhound Gang es que como cualquier imbécil con la suficiente inteligencia, son dolorosamente conscientes del limitado alcance intelectual de sus canciones, lo cual les duele -porque Jimmy Pop es indudablemente mucho más espabilado de lo que nos quiere hacer creer-, y le dan un aura tristona a todas las canciones, que yo particularmente soy incapaz de calificar como “de cachondeo”. Ira desbocada e inocua, incapacidad para llevar a cabo las actividades más sencillas o para entablar las relaciones más elementales. La banda sonora ideal (muy poco modernita, eso sí) para “Punch-Drunk Love”, es decir, imbéciles ultraviolentos y mataos que se creen el ombligo del universo. La joya del disco es “A Lap Dance Is So Much Better”, cuyo estribillo completo es “A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When The Stripper Is Crying”, así que ya se pueden imaginar. Pues no: entera es mucho mejor. La letra es una pasada amarga, incómoda y nihilista y no me resisto a reproducirla aquí.
I was lonelier than Kunta Kinte at a Merle Haggard concert that night I strolled on into Uncle Limpy’s Hump Palace lookin’ for love. It had been a while. In fact, three hundred and sixty-five had come and went since that midnight run haulin’ hog to Shakey Town on I-10. I had picked up this hitchhiker that was sweatin’ gallons through a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and one of those Fruit Of The Loom tank-tops. Well, that night I lost myself to ruby red lips, milky white skin and baby blue eyes. Name was Russell.
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Well I find it’s quite a thrill
When she grinds me against her will
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Well, faster than you can say, “shallow grave”, this pretty little thing come up to me and starts kneadin’ my balls like hard-boiled eggs in a tube sock. Said her name was Bambi and I said, “Well that’s a coincidence darlin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about skinnin’ you like a deer.” Well she smiled, had about as much teeth as a Jack-O-Lantern, and I went on to tell her how I would wear her face like a mask as I do my little kooky dance. And then she told me to shush. I guess she could sense my desperation. ‘Course, it’s hard to hide a hard-on when you’re dressed like Minnie Pearl.
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Well I find it’s quite a thrill
When she grinds me against her will
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
So, Bambi’s goin’ on about how she can make all my fantasies come true. So I says, “Even this one I have where Jesus Christ is jackhammering Mickey Mouse in the doo-doo hole with a lawn dart as Garth Brooks gives birth to something resembling a cheddar cheese log with almonds on Santa Claus’s tummy-tum?” Well, ten beers, twenty minutes and thirty dollars later I’m parkin’ the beef bus in tuna town if you know what I mean. Got to nail her back at her trailer. Heh. That rhymes. I have to admit it was even more of a turn-on when I found out she was doin’ me to buy baby formula.
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Well I find it’s quite a thrill
When she grinds me against her will
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Day or so had passed when I popped the clutch, gave the tranny a spin and slid on into The Stinky Pinky Gulp N’ Guzzle Big Rig Snooze-A-Stop. There I was browsin’ through the latest issue of “Throb”, when I saw Bambi starin’ at me from the back of a milk carton. Well, my heart just dropped. So, I decided to do what any good Christian would. You can not imagine how difficult it is to hold a half gallon of moo juice and polish the one-eyed gopher when your doin’ seventy-five in an eighteen-wheeler. I never thought missing children could be so sexy. Did I say that out loud?
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Well I find it’s quite a thrill
When she grinds me against her will
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin’
Y eso que aún no hemos hablado de “Feer Bierce Coaster”, el predecesor de “Hooray for Boobies”. Hablaremos, porque vamos a necesitar un rato.
